


Laid on a Layover

by solrosan



Series: All mobile phones should be turned off for the duration of the flight [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Booty Call, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solrosan/pseuds/solrosan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin has a layover in London. Anthea decides to stop by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laid on a Layover

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by zedille, for all my ~~Anthea related~~ punctuation needs.

* * *

Good morning,  
Captain Crieff.

_Who is this?_

Anthea, from  
Frankfurt Airport.

_How did you get  
my number?_

I have access to a  
very powerful,  
high-tech database  
that contains  
information beyond  
your wildest dreams. 

_What?_

The Internet, Captain  
Crieff.

_Why?_

I wanted to make  
sure you made a  
safe return to  
Great Britain.

_We did, thank you.  
What about you?_

It took about 7  
hours by train,  
but I made it.

_Was your boss  
very upset?_

Yes, the ash cloud  
caused some problems  
here too, since we’re  
an island and all.

_I’m sorry._

Don’t be. It was  
worth it.

_Okay. Good._

Where are you now?

_Are you stalking me?_

You wouldn’t notice  
if I were.

_Okay._

Relax, Captain Crieff.

_You have to admit  
that this is strange._

I suppose I have  
a slightly distorted  
view of what’s  
considered strange.

_This is strange._

I’m sorry. I’ll leave  
you alone.

_I didn’t mean it  
like that._

You’re sweet, Captain  
Crieff. If you’re ever  
in London, you have  
my number.

_I do. I’ll call you._

I prefer to text.

_Okay._

Goodbye, Captain  
Crieff.

_Goodbye._

-x-

_At London Gatwick.  
Staying at Russ Hill._

_That wasn’t me! I’m really  
sorry, my first officer  
stole my phone!_

I haven’t heard that  
one before.

_I’m so sorry!_

Don’t be. Do you  
really have a layover  
at EGKK?

_You know the ICAO  
code for Gatwick  
Airport?_

I know all domestic  
ICAO codes. And the  
European IATA codes.

_That’s amazing! Not  
even I know that many._

Admit it, Captain,  
it turns you on.

_It’s quite impressive.  
Why do you know  
them?_

It’s work-related.  
Are you in Crawley,  
Captain?

_Yes._

I have some things  
to finish at work,  
but I can be there  
in about three hours,  
if you’d like.

_Okay._

What does that mean?

_That I’d like you to  
come._

I’d like you to make  
me come.

_I’ll see what I can do._

I’m looking forward  
to it. See you around  
19:00, Captain.

_See you then._

-x-

Sometime after 7 p.m. Anthea was at the Russ Hill Hotel, knocking on door 221 – the irony was not lost on her, though she tried to ignore it. She had turned off her phone to escape both the Holmes brothers and stopped by her flat for a toothbrush and change of clothes.

“Did you forget your other clothes again, Captain?” she asked when Martin opened the door, still in uniform shirt and trousers. “You landed almost five hours ago.”

“I… eh….” 

“I’m not complaining, you know. I like a man in uniform,” said Anthea, making Martin turn the most adorable shade of red. 

She waited a moment, and raised an eyebrow when nothing happened. “Martin, I’m starting to feel like a call girl. Let me in.”

“Oh, God! I’m sorry.” Martin stepped aside.

Anthea looked around the room. It was... well, it was just an average budget hotel, nothing at all like the suite at the Steigenberger. There was a standard single bed, a framed poster on the wall, a small desk, and an old TV. Martin had hung his uniform jacket over the chair and put his Captain’s cap on the desk.

“So… yeah… ehm.” Martin looked around the room as well. “Carolyn is paying for the rooms and, and she doesn’t— I mean, MJN Air doesn’t. It’s been, um, with the ash cloud, and business has—”

Anthea picked up his cap, cutting off his nervous babble. “May I try it?”

“Um….”

“Is that a yes?” 

“Um….”

She smiled and put the hat on. Martin closed his mouth, staring, and did nothing to stop her.

“Does it look good on me?”

“Y-yes.”

“I’m sure it looks better on you, Captain.” She walked over to him and moved the cap from her head to his. “See, I was right.” 

Before he had the time to answer she leaned in to kiss him. Martin hesitated, but as the kiss continued he put his arms around her, resting his hands on her bum. With a sound of approval, Anthea wrapped her arms around his neck and stepped out of her high heels. 

Neither of them was in any hurry. As Martin pulled her blouse from her pencil skirt, Anthea realised that this was turning into the longest snog she’d had since her early twenties. To speed it up a bit, she started to remove his tie, trying – and failing – to not break the kiss. She dropped the tie on the floor and teasingly sucked his lower lip, making him lean against the wall. 

Before they got any further, there was a knock on the door. Rather annoyed by the interruption, they both looked at the door.

“Who is it?” Martin asked. Anthea stole a kiss.

“Room service,” answered a female voice from the hall. Anthea shrugged: she hadn’t ordered anything. Martin shrugged too, and turned to get the door, but Anthea giggled and caught him by the wrist.

"Take off the cap," she said, and grabbed it off his head. Martin looked confused, but smiled when she waved him on towards the door.

Anthea stepped out of sight from the door, tossing the cap on the bed, and listened to Martin trying to explain that they hadn’t ordered any room service. When the woman in the hall said that it was already paid for, Anthea became suspicious.

“That was strange,” Martin said, coming back with a bottle and two glasses.

“Sadly, not according to my standards,” she sighed, holding out her hand for the bottle. It was champagne, a Bollinger _Vieilles Vignes Françaises_. Anthea snorted and reached for her handbag. 

“What’s happening?” Martin had placed the glasses on the desk, and looked completely lost. It was sweet, but Anthea was too irritated to notice. She turned her phone back on and pressed speed-dial with an annoyed frown.

“We’re being sexually harassed by my boss,” she explained, smiling at Martin’s shocked expression. “Don’t worry abou—”

“Hello, Ms Somers,” said Mycroft Holmes from the other end of the line. He sounded inappropriately amused.

“Sir, with all due respect, bugger off.”

“Certainly, Ms Somers. Enjoy the champagne… and the Captain.”

“I will. Thank you, sir.” She hung up and sighed. “I’m sorry about that. Champagne?”

“You… eh… you told your boss you were coming here?” Martin sounded so insecure that Anthea wanted to call Mr Holmes again, reach through the phone, and strangle the man. 

“No, of course not.” Anthea started to open the champagne. “He’s just a nosy control freak who likes to show off” – the cork left the bottle with a pop – “and I may or may not have done the same to him in the past.”

Martin sat down on the bed, pointing back and forth between them. “This?”

“Oh God. No.” The thought made Anthea giggle and overfill the second glass. “He’s gay – I think – and in a very committed relationship to Harry, England and St George. Or perhaps Elizabeth, the UK and his brother would be more accurate, I don’t know.”

She handed him one of the glasses, raising her own in a toast. “To meddlesome first officers and intrusive bosses!” 

He stared at her, mouth slightly opened in confusion. 

“Drink up, Captain,” she said. “It’s £400 a bottle.”

“What?” Martin said, choking.

“Mm, besides being a nosy control freak, my boss has quite expensive taste,” Anthea said, joining him on the bed.

“Are— are you a secret agent?”

She laughed. “Not exactly. Whatever gave you that idea?” 

“I don’t know, I eh…” Martin blushed and looked down into his glass.

“Can we please not talk about my job?” She asked, lifting his chin up again with two fingers so he would look at her. “Because that’s not what I came here for.”

His blush grew deeper and it looked like he was about to say something, but to her pleasant surprise he leaned in and kissed her. _That_ was more like what she had come here for.

-x-

Thank you for last  
night.

_You’re welcome._

Martin.

_I’m sorry. I mean,  
thank you, too._

If this is going to  
continue, we’ll  
have to work on  
your manners,  
Captain.

_Continue?_

If you feel up for it,  
you can have your  
first officer text me  
again the next time  
you’re at a London  
airport.

Or you could just  
text me yourself.

_I’d like that._

See you later, then.


End file.
